


Meditations

by AngryPirateHusbands



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coping, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:58:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8389864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryPirateHusbands/pseuds/AngryPirateHusbands
Summary: Marcus Aurelius' Meditations is a volume that holds great significance to Flint. After they beat back the English's attack on Maroon Island, he sees fit to finally share it with his quartermaster, John Silver.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I hopes this fucks you up as much as it did me.~~  
>  I mean, I hope you enjoy it.

Several weeks had passed since they had successfully repelled the English in their attack against the island. Several weeks since the feared name "Long John Silver" had been forged in the flames of this war, and several weeks since Silver had finally learned the truth of what fueled Flint's hatred. Only it wasn't hatred at all. In a way, he supposed he should have known all along. Anger, while more than sufficient kindling for any acts of vengeance, was an entity that would at some point run its course, burn out. But heartbreak... That was something that scarred an individual irreparably. Something that would withstand the sands of time and forever alter a man's outlook of the world that continued to turn around him.

Now that Silver knew of Thomas Hamilton, he felt he had a new, acute understanding of who James Flint was before all this. Not to mention who he was now. Silver couldn't pretend to know the pain of losing someone. While he had spent the majority of his life under the care of nuns at a lowly orphanage, there was a distinct difference between having no one at all and having a loved one torn from your grasp. So although he didn't fully understand, he did hold a new appreciation for the man's motives. Every course of action Flint had once taken now seemed to fall into a place of understanding. After all, he had seen before what grief could do. After the events of Charlestown Flint was distraught. While that emotionless mask may have been enough to fool the rest of the crew, his actions alone were enough to illustrate the torment and grief that raged within him.

However, ever since that late night beside the fire Flint had become scarce. It was almost as if the man were avoiding him. In a way, Silver couldn't blame him if that were true. Even as their relationship developed from simple physical desire to something much more meaningful, Flint was always notably closed off. It was just in his nature he supposed. And yet Silver was now keenly aware of it. Every shifted glance, every time his raw emotion gave way to that stern mask. It was if that chasm between them was opening once more. Flint had shared such a deep part of his history, and the resulting vulnerability was causing him to hold Silver at arm's length. It was as if all those months of progress were suddenly swept away by the tides like sand along the beach. And it infuriated him. He tried to be understanding, to give Flint the space he apparently felt he needed, but he was in too deep now. To have struggled to come so close to the man only to be turned away... It caused a harsh pang in his chest. A sensation he had always tried so desperately to ignore.

That night the sea was unusually calm. It was a stark contrast to the constant struggle they had all faced these past several months. Yet here Silver stood, head tilted back to take in the blanket of stars laid out above them. The crisp scent of salt was carried on the gentle breeze that stirred his hair and filled the sails of the _Walrus_. Once his eyes adjusted to the darkness the man spotted what he was searching for. A black silhouette stood against the far railing of the quarterdeck. As quietly as he could Silver made his way over to the lonely shadow. He leaned on his crutch as he hobbled up the stairs, the man no longer possessing the patience for any unnecessary pain. Since his altercation with Dufrasne, Silver no longer worried over the potential glances of pity or ridicule his iron boot or crutch could cause. He no longer feared the appearance of being weak. If anything, the missing limb now struck fear into the hearts of others more than anything else. Billy had made sure of that.

Flint's head turned ever so slightly as he caught wind of his approach. Yet he did not move from his spot. Silver paid this no mind and joined at the captain's side, the man leaning forward heavily against the rail. He looked over the gentle waves as he spoke. "I feel as though you've been avoiding me." He spoke quietly, taking care to keep any accusatory tone from coloring his voice. It was a meant as a simple observation; nothing more, nothing less.

"Do you, now?" Flint asked simply. After a few moments of silence his gaze turned downcast as he appeared to wrestle with his thoughts. Slowly, almost hesitantly, a hand left the railing to move over the quartermaster's. Silver's brow furrowed ever so slightly at the unexpected intimacy. "I'm tired," Flint eventually whispered. There was a certain finality to his words and still he avoided his gaze. Yet after a moment those green eyes finally met his, and when they did there was an air of suggestion in those depths.

* * *

 

The two lounged against the cushioned window seat in the captain's cabin, their bare bodies a mess of intertwined limbs. The cabin was lit with the soft glow of the lantern that set against his desk. Silver laid near the window with Flint close at his side, the man's head resting lightly against the edge of his shoulder. Calloused fingers trailed over the back of Silver's hand, tracing the veins, the scars, the indents on his palms before absent mindedly toying with those ringed fingers. Silver breathed deeply still as the pleasure of his orgasm continued to course through his body. Flint, apparently of a likened mind, relaxed in the silence broken only by their slowing and steadying breaths.

"Did you love him?" Silver finally dared to ask, effectively cutting through the silence. He treaded carefully with his next words, realizing that he was perhaps far overstepping his boundaries. Yet he had to know. "I realize.. that he was important to you. That you had a physical relationship, but--"  
  
"Yes," Flint murmured, interrupting yet also answering the question. He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat before continuing. "Yes... I loved Thomas. I loved Miranda too, though in a different way." Fingers continued to moved over Silver's hand almost listlessly as he spoke. His voice was raw with a gentle and unguarded expression on his features to match. "She was my confidant, my partner. A very dear friend. But what I had with _him..._ It was something different. He revealed to me a different part of myself.. Not unlike how you did."

Silver swallowed, blue eyes closing as he took in the full weight of the man's words. To hear Flint actually share something so deep and personal both surprised and moved him. Yet just as he was about to speak Flint stirred, pulling away from the man as he stood from the seat and wandered over to his desk. He tucked himself back into his breeches as he walked. "I want to share something with you."

With a bit of difficulty Silver pulled himself up to better observe the man. His entire body ached but in an undeniably delicious way. Every fiber of his form was loose and warm with satisfaction from their coupling. Even as he shifted he could feel the captain's release dampening his thighs. Flint rummaged through the drawers of his desk for a few moments before withdrawing what appeared to be a book. For just a moment the man paused, perhaps warring with himself before he finally returned to him.

The book was thick yet quite smaller than most of his other texts, the cover a warm shade of red. Silver instantly recognized it as the book he had plucked from the shelf when he was first recovering from the loss of his leg. Flint had quickly grown cross when he saw that he had disturbed it. He remembered the way he had growled at him to put it back. Had said that it was of great importance to Miranda Barlow, and therefore to him as well. Flint now handed it to him, his touch lingering as he watched with careful green eyes.

"The first page," Flint suggested quietly. Though his voice was raw his tone possessed a certain gentleness to it. Yet the tension visible in the cords of his neck made obvious his uncertainty.

Silver's eyes lingered on the man before lowering to the book that had been handed to him. The cover was soft, the edges lightly worn though it was obvious that it had been well taken care of. When he opened the front cover his eyes immediately moved over the inscription Flint had referred to. It was written in long, flowing letters and was rather elegant, already revealing who had penned it. Still, Silver swallowed the unease that fluttered in his chest before quietly reading aloud. "James, my truest love. Know no shame. T.H..." Fingers moved lightly over the pages, his eyes boring into the ink black words before finally daring to look up and meet Flint's gaze.

Flint's expression was perhaps more raw and honest than he had ever seen it. The first thing he noticed was how exhausted he appeared. The circles under his eyes seemed more prominent than before, the worry lines creasing his forehead. He simply looked... Tired. Of this war, of losing those he cared about, of sequestering portions of his identity from all who met him. It was then that Silver truly realized the weight of what Flint had just offered to him. It was not just a book, nor was it simply a piece of his history. It was that last sliver of his former self, James McGraw, that Flint had spent years so desperately trying to bury away and forget. He had finally laid himself bare before him; all of himself.

"Marcus Aurelius' _Meditations_ ," Flint murmured, his soft words effectively pulling Silver from his thoughts. "It was Thomas' personal favorite. After he was taken from us it fell to Miranda for safekeeping. And then to me, after Charlestown. It's significance, not just to me but to all of us, I believe goes without saying... I would like for you to have it."  
  
Silver's lips parted slightly. For the first time in his life his words failed him. He swallowed before offering a slight shake of his head. His mouth suddenly felt dry. "I.."

"Please," Flint insisted as he returned to sit beside the quartermaster. Silver had started to turn through the pages when that hand once again covered his own, stopping him. "Read it, take your time. I think you'd rather like it." Flint leaned close to press his lips against Silver's forehead in a gentle kiss.

* * *

It took Silver roughly a week to finish reading  _Meditations_. While they had indeed won a large victory against the English, their work was still far from over. And so their days were filled with the usual task of tending to the crew and planning out their next course of action. The only time he found a spare moment to read was after the sun had fallen and the men retired below deck. And so by the time Silver had finally finished, Flint was fast asleep in his cot and the candles in the cabin were burning low. Yet as he turned the final page he saw it. An inscription took up the entirety of the page with scrawling letters that, while not as elegant as Thomas Hamilton's hand, were still learned and neat. And so Flint's handwriting was unmistakable.

_John Silver,_

_A lying thief_  
_A shitty cook_  
_A worthy rival_  
_An infallible partner_

 _To be my end, and my new beginning_  
_My anchor  
My love_

_-James Flint_

**Author's Note:**

> Portions of this reference my other fic "Read Between the Lines", because for some reason I love intertwining stuff. :/


End file.
